


for a fragile moment's ease

by Jothowrote



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ep 160, Gentle fluff, M/M, Spoilers for MAG 160, missing scene from 160, spoilers for S4 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jothowrote/pseuds/Jothowrote
Summary: After the Lonely, and before the end of the world, they were happy.MAG 160 missing scene(s).





	for a fragile moment's ease

**Author's Note:**

> God, that finale. This just fell out of me. Spoilers for 160. Just pure, unrepentant fluff to help me deal with the finale episode.

The safe house is hardly replete with creature comforts, but while Martin is out scrounging food from the nearest village, Jon manages to build a fire in the clean, empty hearth. The orange glow of the flames is almost homely, and Jon curls up with a scratchy woollen blanket and shivers.

The fatigue rests heavy as lead in his bones. He’d gone into the Lonely weak, his diet having consisted of dry old statements for weeks now. Killing Lukas had given him something of a rush, but it had left him used up and dried out. 

In the highlands of Scotland, miles from the nearest human, he feels like a shade of himself. The warmth and light from the fire helps.

It is dark when Martin finally gets back, smelling of fresh evening air and sweat and triumph.

‘They were closing up when I got there, but they very kindly let me grab a few things,’ he says, dumping the straining plastic bags on the scratched wooden table. ‘I said that we’re here on holiday. Oh, a fire. Lovely.’

‘Thought I’d make myself useful,’ Jon says, gathering up his blanket and rising shakily from the sofa. 

‘It’s ok; I can unpack it,’ Martin says quickly. Jon scoffs.

‘You just walked at least five miles – let me help-‘

‘It’s ok,’ Martin says, softly. ‘Jon –‘

Jon’s trembling legs make the decision for him; he crumples back into his seat and watches mulishly as Martin reveals the contents of his shopping trip. Martin chatters throughout; filling the quiet with his voice.

‘Thought we could have soup for tonight, quick and easy,’ he says, as he lines cans up neatly on the dusty, empty shelves. ‘It looks like this place is still connected to the mains, even if it doesn’t have a boiler. I got a few different kinds, I didn’t know which you preferred; and some bread, and cheese and milk, just the usual staples – oh god, you’re not gluten intolerant or anything, are you? I didn’t even think to ask-‘

‘No,’ Jon says. A small smile cracks the sides of his mouth. ‘That all sounds great. Thank you, Martin.’

Martin turns to him, hands full of carrots and potatoes.

‘I should be the one saying thank you,’ he says.

Jon shrugs.

‘I wouldn’t say no to some food as a thank you.’

‘Okay.’ Martin’s smile is small and fragile, but there. They grin at each other stupidly, in the flickering light of the fire.

‘Oh!’ Martin exclaims, turning back to his shopping bags. ‘And I got this.’

He pulls a bottle of scotch out with a flourish and thunks it down on the table. ‘I don’t know about you, but after everything, I need a drink.’

*

‘Did you get a hold of Basira?’ Jon asks, after they’ve eaten soup and bread and washed up the dusty bowls and plates. Jon is back in his nest of blankets, and Martin is curled in a ratty old armchair. 

‘Yeah; she says there’s nothing to report yet,’ Martin says, picking absentmindedly at a stray thread. ‘But that I should phone her back in a week.’

‘Okay.’ Jon sighs. It’s not what he wants to hear – he needs to Know – but it has to be enough for now.

The fire crackles in the silence.

‘Jon…’ Martin says, softly. ‘Thank you. For coming after me. For… bringing me back.’

‘What else could I do?’ Jon says.

‘You could have died, going into the Lonely. And it was my own fault I was there in the first place.’ The thread from the armchair was growing longer as Martin tugs it, his hands twitching anxiously. He stares down at it, avoiding Jon’s eyes.

‘Martin-‘

‘I know I said some things, in there… when I didn’t think you were real,’ Martin says, hurriedly. The thread from the armchair now abandoned, he wrings his hands anxiously. ‘And I’m not expecting anything. And I was lying when I said I loved you past tense – well, I wasn’t lying at the time, because I thought I’d never feel anything again – but I meant it. And I’m sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable, or anything, and I’m pretty sure you already knew about what I felt and were kind enough to ignore it, let me down gently, and-‘

‘Martin,’ Jon says, gently but firmly, and Martin falls silent.

Jon takes a breath.

‘I went into the Buried, after Daisy, because I felt… guilty, I suppose. About her, and Basira. I wanted to do something _good_. I wanted to help. I went into the Lonely after you because… because I _need_ you, Martin.’

There’s silence again. 

‘Look,’ Jon tries, ‘there’s a reason I went to you first, as soon as I found out how to escape. And it’s not because I wanted you to tell me no, or whatever you thought. It’s because, without you, I wouldn’t want to leave. I don’t want to just survive anymore, Martin. I don’t want to be alone.’

Martin giggles then, high and a little hysterical.

‘The amount of times I’ve imagined this,’ he says. ‘I almost can’t believe this is real. Maybe I did die, somehow.’

‘If you did, so did I.’ Jon smiles. ‘You know, Lukas was right, in a way. We really don’t know each other that well.’

Martin frowns at the fire for a second, before jumping to his feet.

‘We can fix that,’ he says, before fetching the scotch and two of the least chipped mugs. ‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘there aren’t any glasses.’

‘What’s the plan?’ Jon asks, watching as Martin pours generous helpings into each mug.

‘Think of it like truth or dare, or never have I ever,’ Martin says, handing Jon a mug.

‘I’ve never played either of those games,’ Jon says.

‘There we go! A good start. I have.’ Martin takes a sip. ‘You really haven’t? I thought that you went to uni?’

‘I did,’ Jon says, ‘but I didn’t exactly socialise much.’

‘Well, you already know I didn’t go to uni,’ Martin says, ‘or have any kind of higher education.’

‘So… how do I play?’ Jon asks. Martin shrugs.

‘I don’t know. We can just, kind of, trade facts about ourselves and drink?’

‘Yeah,’ Jon says. ‘That sounds… that sounds nice.’

‘And you can’t cheat.’ Martin points a finger at Jon. ‘No beholding brain tricks. Just normal questions.’

‘I promise,’ Jon says.

‘Right, so you know I was brought up by my mother,’ Martin says. ‘We might as well start with the basics.’

‘Grandmother,’ Jon says. ‘Dead, now.’

‘Snap.’ They clink their mugs together, and drink. The scotch is average in taste but warming and strong, and Jon can feel it slide down into his belly and start heating him up from the inside.

‘I know you like poetry,’ Jon says. ‘And retro aesthetics. And spiders.’

‘I don’t _like_ spiders so much as I don’t mind them.’ Martin grins. ‘Not like some people.’

‘The Web was the first to mark me,’ Jon says. Martin’s smile fades.

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. God knows I’ve seen enough horror since that my own experiences feel very mediocre.’ Jon looks down at his mug. ‘What are the rules, for drinking? When we say something new about ourselves, or when we already know something?’

‘I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead,’ Martin admits.

Jon takes another drink anyway.

‘I like animals,’ he says. ‘Cats, mainly, but all animals.’

‘There were some pretty great cows on the way down to the village,’ Martin offers. ‘Big fluffy orange ones with horns. Gentle faces.’

They drink at the same time, not breaking eye contact. Warmth is spreading through Jon’s chest, more than just from the scotch. Martin’s face looks lovely in the firelight.

The evening is spent trading truths, and Jon feels content, and forgets how tired and weak he is. The safe house only has one ratty mattress on the floor – Daisy was clearly not fussed about her sleeping facilities – but after a few mugs of scotch and overcome with tiredness, they curl up together in a nest of dusty woollen blankets without issue, safe from the outside world.

*

In a way, Martin hadn’t been lying when he’d told the local that they were on holiday. It feels like a holiday – away from the institute, and the horrors of their everyday lives, the world feels far away. They build a little haven of peace; alone, but not lonely. Unwatched, but Known.

The looming threats are ever present but distant, and never more so than when their small fire burns and they hold each other close in the gentle dark. Basira updates them weekly on the news, which is usually that there is no news; Magnus has vanished, as have the hunters, not-Sasha, and Daisy. There is peace before an inevitable storm. Jon knows it’s temporary, and he knows that their fragile oasis of calm can’t possibly hold long, but for the moment they are safe, and they are together.

‘I love you,’ Martin whispers at night, when the darkness means they can’t see each other.

He has only ever said those words when he believes he is out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Jonny sims is a monster. 
> 
> This is my first non-AU fic in a while. It felt cathartic to write them as happy in actual canon for once! Usually I have to change the universe entirely.


End file.
